iWas Framed!
by littlemisslibrarian
Summary: Sam and Carly were framed for murder! Now they are in juvie! Will Freddy be able to prove their innocence? Or will Carly and Sam be doomed to spend their life in prison for a crime they didn't commit?
1. Prologue

Prologue

A screech of tires echoed off the rainy (as always) Seattle streets. Then there was a tap of shoes on pavement, and the sound of a heated argument. A gunshot ended the argument, and tires screeched again as the gun wielder drove off. Mandy jumped from her bed, sending her cat Mr. Quack flying. He hissed, his tail bushing out three times its size. Mandy put her finger to her lips and crept up to the window. Below her apartment, there was a silhouette of a man in a suit. Something dark surrounded his head. Blood. Mandy grew faint. She staggered and fell into her beanbag chair. A murder had just happened. Right. Outside. Her. Apartment.

Police sirens interrupted the ghastly silence. They surrounded the crime scene, and their flashing lights dazed Mandy momentarily. She snuck downstairs and stared out the window of the lobby. Luckily, the doorman was asleep. The police were putting yellow tape around the scene, and white tape around the body. Then they lifted the body onto a gurney. A detective inspected the scene and took some notes. He showed the notes to the chief, who frowned.

"The iCarly crew? But they're just kids!"

"Have you ever seen Sam?"

Mandy covered her mouth to keep back a scream. There was no way. Sam was pushy and aggressive, but she wasn't a murderer. And Carly and Freddy certainly wouldn't kill anyone. She longed to go out there and tell them, but she was afraid they would think she was meddling. So she tiptoed back upstairs and pretended to sleep. But the adrenaline coursing through her body made it impossible to close her eyes, except for blinking. Mr. Quack curled up with her, obviously forgiving her for throwing him across the room.

In Carly's house, Spencer screamed. Carly jumped 2 feet in the air and ran down the stairs, falling down the last one. She got up and ran to Spencer.

"What's wrong?"

"YOU KILLED A MAN," Spencer screamed. He shoved the newspaper in Carly's face. Carly read the headline, and couldn't bring herself to read the article. The headline said it all.

"Seattle Lawyer Killed By iCarly Crew." Carly dropped the paper and texted Sam and Freddy. They were bursting through the door before you could say Blueberry Banana Blitz. When they read the headline, the three best friends shook their heads.

"Stupid newspaper," Sam screamed, ripping it into shreds. Freddy's mom kicked the door down. Spencer's jaw dropped. She marched over to Freddy and proceeded to spank him. Carly stopped her and explained the situation in as calm a voice as she could.

"Ms. Benson, we were rehearsing iCarly last night. It wasn't us. You know nobody here would kill anyone."

But Ms. Benson had fainted at Carly's feet. Freddy rubbed his sore behind and awkwardly thanked Carly for saving his butt…literally!


	2. Chapter 1: You're going downtown!

Suddenly, several armored policemen with guns blocked the doorway.

"So you've done it again? That's it. You're going downtown," the chief of police said. Carly trembled and held back tears of rage and fear. Sam clenched her fists and tried very hard not to punch the stupid policeman in the face. Freddy tried to revive his mom. Sam and Carly were handcuffed and led out of the apartment. Freddy stared after them, a tear running down his cheek.

"NOOOOOO!"

Carly stopped in her tracks.

"Wait! What makes you think we did it?"

The chief of police reached into his pocket and showed Carly a tube of lipstick in a plastic bag.

"Recognize this? This tube of lipstick was found at the crime scene." Carly glared at him.

"That's not mine! I got it as a gift, but then I gave it to someone else because I didn't like the shade!"

Sam looked hurt.

"_I_ gave you that lipstick!"

"Oh. Sorry…"

The chief interrupted them: "Well it has your fingerprints on it. So it has to be yours. Remember that lying will get you in more trouble."

"I AM NOT LYING," Carly screamed.

The policeman pulled another item from his pocket, also in a plastic bag. It was a bologna sandwich with a bite taken out of it. Sam gasped. The policeman sneered.

"That's right. This is your lunch, is it not. Alright girls, get in the car," he ordered, because they had reached the car. Carly sobbed. She knew they were innocent, but how was she going to compete when the police had their cool DNA labs and stuff?

"Sam, you've been in juvie before. What's it like," Carly asked, afraid to know the answer. _Better to be prepared,_ she thought. Sam gave her a mournful look.

"There are other kids there who are bigger and meaner than us. And I don't think the food they give us has been approved by the FDA. But worst of all is the loneliness. You have to spend most of the day in your cell, but you're allowed out a few times a day to exercise. And be careful not to breathe the wrong way, or you'll get in trouble. If you get a visitor, you have to talk to them behind a glass wall with a phone. But don't worry," Sam reassured after her horrifying description, "I'll make sure you don't get hurt. That's what best friends are for."

Then the girls reached the juvenile detention center and were led inside. They were handed orange jumpsuits and led into a room to change. Carly frowned at the bagginess, but this wasn't the worst part of her sentence. Sam merely looked bummed. Carly, on the other hand, felt like she did when she was stuck in the therapy box. Any minute now, she would be in a padded room. At least, that's how it felt.

Freddy finally stopped crying, and he ran upstairs to the studio where his camera was. _I could show the cops the footage from last night! It has the date on it and everything!_ But much to his dismay, he remembered that because it was a rehearsal, he had deleted the footage. So Freddy face palmed and slunk to a corner, another lump forming in his throat. _Real men don't cry. Yeah right,_ he thought as his vision blurred with tears. _Pull yourself together, Fredward, _he scolded himself. _You have friends to save. Now think, how could you possibly prove that they were not at the crime scene that night? _A light bulb went off in his head. "Fingerprints on the gun! That's it!" Then he called the police station.

The chief of police answered the phone.

"Hello. You have reached Officer Smith, chief of police."

"Officer Smith! Have you checked the gun for fingerprints?"  
"Who the heck is this," Officer Smith asked.

"Freddy Benson, sir."

"Ah. The murderers' sidekick. Well if you're looking to prove your little friends' innocence, give up. I have Carly's lipstick, with her fingerprints on it, found at the crime scene. And Sam's sandwich. And there were no fingerprints on the gun. The murderer must have worn gloves."

The police officer hung up, and Freddy slammed the phone down.

"Gee what a dipthong," he muttered. Spencer came in, having listened to the whole thing, and sat down next to Freddy.

"You know, I took three days of law school. Maybe I could help. They gave me a big book of law stuff."

Freddy looked up, managing a small smile. Finally, some hope.

"That would be great!"

Spencer leaped up.

"To the law book," he said dramatically, and ran to the bookshelf. Freddy got up and followed.


	3. Chapter 2: Annoying people

A policeman led Carly and Sam into a small room. There, he took their fingerprints and mug shots. Then he led them into a cell and showed them the warrant. The girls read it with shaking hands. Sam crumpled the paper in her fist.

"WE DIDN'T KILL ANYONE!"  
The policeman glared at her.  
"Curb the attitude, Puckett. Your trial's in 48 hours. Then we'll see how innocent you really are."

Carly felt faint and sat down on the cold floor, burying her head in her hands.

Spencer sat down on the couch with the law book and opened the page to "Proving Your Client's Innocence."

"According to this chapter, um," Spencer skimmed the chapter, "We have 48 hours to find evidence that they didn't do it and a witness to prove it even further."

"How are we going to do that," Freddy asked, freaking out.

"How should I know? I'm not a lawyer," Spencer said. Freddy sighed.

"The article has to show the location somewhere. Maybe we could go there and ask around," Freddy said, jumping up and grabbing the newspaper. He turned to the article and started reading.

"Lawyer John C. Burns was murdered outside the Pacific Lane Apartment Complex at 12:15 PM."

Spencer jumped up and grabbed Freddy's arm, dragging him to the car. He drove as fast as he could without breaking the speed limit. They reached the apartment complex in five minutes.

Freddy walked in and greeted the doorman, who was much friendlier than Lewbert. He ran to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. He figured it would be easier to start at the top.

After Freddy and Spencer checked three out of the fifteen stories, they began to feel hopeless. Of course everyone was asleep. By the time they reached the tenth floor they were ready to give up for the day. When they were walking out of the lobby, Mandy jumped out from behind a fake plant with her duck mask on.

"QUACK QUACK!"

"Mandy, now is not the time," Freddy said in an annoyed voice. Mandy sadly took off her mask.

"So I heard Carly and Sam are in jail."

"Yeah. That's why we're here. We're trying to find someone who witnessed the murder. You didn't happen to be awake at 12:15 last night, did you?"

"Actually, yes I was," Mandy said quietly. "A gunshot woke me up, and I looked out and saw someone laying on the ground, dead. I also saw a car drive away from the scene. When it drove under a streetlight, I saw that it was a dark green sports car. But the license plate was too far away to read."

"Thank you very much, Mandy! Do you think you could come to court with us the day after tomorrow? You could be our witness!"

Mandy nodded, surprisingly serious. "Anything to save the iCarly's." Then she turned back to her old self. "But you have to let me hug you!" Freddy rolled his eyes as Mandy choked him in a bear hug. Spencer tried to hold back a laugh, but he failed. Freddy gave him a death stare, which wasn't very impressive.

"Carly, Sam, you have a visitor," the chief of police said. Nevel strolled into the room. He walked right up to the door. Carly and Sam glared at him. Sam barely suppressed the urge to punch him in his smug little face. But Nevel looked… _concerned?_

"Nevel! What are you doing here?"

"Well I would say gloating, but I actually feel sorry for you. A little bit. But mostly, I'm sorry for me. Bashing you web show has given me purpose in life, and if you're in prison, I have no purpose. So I'm here to help you."

"That's just pathetic," Sam said. Carly nodded.

"But if you want my help, you're gonna have to let me kiss you, Carls."

Carly backed up against the wall, grimacing. "No way!"

Sam walked up to Carly and whispered, "Either kiss him or we get life in prison." Carly nodded, trying to hold back her lunch. She remembered when Nevel nearly had them arrested for not giving him a new car. And the time when Mandy accidentally signed the website over to him. Yeah, Nevel sure knew his way around the law. Maybe he could be of some help.

"Fine, Nevel. I'll kiss you. On the cheek."

Nevel smiled evilly. The chief of police snickered. Carly puckered up, but just as she was about to kiss his cheek, Nevel turned his head so her lips met his. Carly's eyes opened wide and she jumped back.

"WHOA!"  
Nevel laughed. "Told you you'd enjoy it." Carly threw up, wishing she could have been closer to Nevel so she could have thrown up on him. Sam raised her fist in warning. The chief of police stepped between them.

"Alright! He was just leaving! Bye, Nevel!"

Nevel smiled and waved goodbye. Carly slumped against the wall. "Worst. Day. Of. My. Life."


	4. Chapter 3: Evidence

Freddy adjusted his fake moustache, which Spencer's friend Socko had made for him as part of his disguise, and followed Spencer to the crime scene. Spencer looked like a real detective, with his suit and badge and even a notepad and pen. He approached the cop and said confidently, "I am Detective… Higgenbottom. I will survey your crime scene today." Then he showed the cop his badge. The cop looked confused. Freddy snickered at Spencer's lousy attempt at an English accent.

"Who's they boy," the cop asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He's my intern."

"Since when do detectives have interns," the cop questioned suspiciously.

"Since I hired this lad."

"Fair enough. Proceed."

With that, the cop left Freddy and Spencer alone. Freddy examined the ground with a scanner on his Pear-Pad that could scan footprints. He found some very faint ones. Timberlake boots, size ten. He showed them to Spencer, who jumped up and grinned.

"Yes! And I have also found something! A butt!"

Freddy suppressed a laugh. Then Spencer pulled out a cigarette butt. They gathered their evidence and went back to the "lab" (Freddy's hi-tech room). Freddy used his DNA scanner on the cigarette butt, figuring that somebody's mouth had been on it and that nobody was allowed to change the crime scene, so he could connect it to the real murderer. He found a match: Officer Smith! Freddy gaped in shock. So did Spencer.

"The footprints must be his too! We have to ask him to give us a footprint!"

"What, and reveal that we've been going onto a crime scene without permission," Freddy exclaimed. He had just realized that one mistake in their plan.

"Oh. We should have thought of that before we went over there."

"Well it doesn't matter now. We have the evidence. Let's go."

* * *

Meanwhile, Nevel had gone online to print out papers. He found the part of the city's rule book that mentioned what happened when someone was convicted of murder, and the rights of the accused. It was getting late now, so he had to wait until tomorrow morning to show them to Carly and Sam. Nevel went to sleep in his blue footies dotted with clouds, the memory of kissing Carly still fresh in his mind.

* * *

Freddy called Officer Smith.

"This is Freddy Benson, sir. I need you to give me your footprint, using the same boots you wore on the night of the crime. Do you remember which shoes those were?"

On the other end of the line, Officer Smith was shocked.

"Why? I'll do it, but first I want to know why? I'm not guilty."

"I found your footprints on the crime scene."

"You were on the crime scene?"

Freddy hung up, his hands shaking. He had become an illegal detective. The thought scared him, but it didn't matter. He had all he needed to prove Carly and Sam were innocent.

* * *

Carly and Sam sat in the cell with the other delinquents in similar cells around them. Some were pacing. Some were cursing. Many had tattoos and one looked drunk. The drunk one glared at her.

"Whaddaya lookin at," he slurred. Carly turned away from the wall she was banging her head against.

"I wasn't looking at you. Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "I was pacing mindlessly like everybody else. I wasn't looking at you either."

"Well one of yous was lookin at me, an' I don' like it. Don' make me come over there."

A girl who looked like she belonged on the cover of a muscle magazine leaned forward. She was in the cell next to the drunk.

"What are you in for?"

"Something we didn't do," Carly said sadly. The muscle-girl scoffed.

"That's what they all say. Me, I killed a man. With my bare hands."

Carly backed up against the wall. Her eyes were wide. Muscle Girl laughed evilly. Then a cop strode down the hall.

"Dinner," he called, sliding a tray under every door. Sam stopped the tray with her foot when it was slid toward her. She offered some food to Carly. Carly, who was too upset to eat anyway, took one look at the flimsy broccoli, rock-hard bread, and unidentifiable meat and grimaced. She didn't think it was possible, but something was worse than school lunches.

"Come on, Carly. You haven't eaten all day," Sam urged, already downing half of the food.

"Not hungry," Carly mumbled. _Think happy thoughts. Puppies. Rainbows. Butterflies. Bunnies. Meadows. That's it. Think happy thoughts. You are on a beach, in a hammock. Not in a filthy prison surrounded by delinquents._


End file.
